


All Right

by Chocolatepot



Category: Original Work
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Loyalty, M/M, Rebellion, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 06:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18805858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatepot/pseuds/Chocolatepot
Summary: It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Prince Maximiliano had had only the best of intentions - but his trusted confidant Domenico could end up executed anyway.





	All Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alley_Skywalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alley_Skywalker/gifts).



Milio should not have sent Domenico riding out to the Terni to speak with the rebel barons, even with a personal guard. He had known, in the distant corner of his mind, that it was not safe in the least – but he was _so certain_ that the real problem was that his father would not sit down and negotiate. The barons had always been reasonable men, and their demands were not so outrageous: they merely wanted more control over the land they administered, and perhaps they would be willing to pay a little extra tax in order to have it. Domi had looked skeptical, but he had agreed to do it for the kingdom – and because the prince had wanted it.

He waited. It was hard to know how long to wait, since if the barons _were_ talking to Domenico they would probably treat him to a dinner and other displays of hospitality, but after a day and a half he went riding out himself from the summer palazzo with another small personal guard. A few hours of hard travel brought him to the Baron Baragna’s castle in the Terni, a squat, old-fashioned keep with an impressive wall.

Coming to the forefront of his guards, he called out to the sentries, “I am Prince Maximiliano di Savarigna. Allow me entry!” They conferred very briefly before opening the gate, allowing a much larger troop of guards to flood out and surround him. “You will take me to the baron,” he ordered them as his horse danced uncertainly, but was unable to put any sort of command into his tone, given his obviously weak position.

Still, they did bring him to the baron, but he could not help but feel that they were presenting him as a prisoner rather than an honored guest or diplomat – they forced his men to wait out in the courtyard, and attempted to take his sword, subsiding only when he set his hand firmly on the hilt. After a short march through the halls, he found himself standing in front of Baragna, a bearded and stocky man who seemed as close and forbidding as his castle. Milio waited a moment for the man to stand, but when he did not pay that respect, he dove in.

“Sir, I believe that you have my emissary.”

The baron snorted. “Is that what you call a spy?”

“He is not a spy! He came here at my request to treat with you, and if you have harmed him – ”

“He has not been harmed.” Milio relaxed slightly. “He _will_ , however, be executed tomorrow morning.”

“How dare – I – what for?” The air seemed to rush out of the room. It couldn’t be true.

“Spying, treason. For being an enemy who wandered into my keep and put himself into my power.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. I have no reason to leave him alive.”

“Domenico was an _ambassador_ – ”

“As a prince, you do not have the power to issue real credentials of that kind. As it is, you should count yourself lucky that I am feeling lenient and honorable enough to allow you a head start toward your own lands before I send my men.”

Milio’s mind raced, but there was only one possibility that he could see – that he could countenance – without completely forfeiting whatever there was of his own honor. “I will give you my parole and pledge to stay here as a hostage without attempting to escape if you will pardon my emissary and our men. My absolute word!”

–––

The baron, of course, accepted his offer, and had Milio escorted out of the hall and to a disused solar, where he was left alone. At some level of his mind, he knew that he should be thinking about what to do, how to get out safely without causing the king embarrassment or costing him a large ransom – but he could not. Over and over, he heard the baron pronouncing Domi’s death sentence, and imagined what would have happened if he had waited one more day, or even a matter of hours, sitting in his comfortable palace and playing his viol and ordering food from his servants. He pictured watching it from a window, from the front row of the crowd, from behind the portcullis, from the baron’s side, and even once as the executioner – which he might as well have been. He had ordered his … his best friend to walk into certain death.

He was foolish, thoughtless. Just like a fairy story, the third and youngest brother was a simpleton. No, that wasn’t it – it was evil. Perhaps he hadn’t meant to be evil, but it was an evil in him that had led him to do this. To use Domi as a pawn, exactly the way that his father and the rebels were using their soldiers, was a betrayal of the most monstrous kind.

At some point, he had stumbled to the window without truly seeing, and slid down the wall beneath it to sit in a crumpled heap with his head in his hands. It was not clear to him how long he stayed that way, but eventually there was the sound of a door opening and someone being pushed inside. That person’s footsteps were irregular at first – he dimly recognized that they were catching their balance – then paused, and then they began to softly move toward him. There was a quiet thump as the person dropped to the floor in front of him.

“Milio?” A pair of soft hands covered his own, thin fingers coaxing their way underneath. A sigh, Domi’s familiar sigh. “Milio, it’s all right. I’m here.”

The prince dug the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars. At last he took them away, though he kept his gaze on the ground. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I – he would have – ”

“Our guards have been sent back, all safe and sound.”

He tried to choke it back, but a sob burst forth, a racking and heaving sob that told of more than just the afternoon’s fear. Milio blindly shook his head, unable to put what he felt into words – that he wished he had gone out himself in the first place, that he wished the baron had agreed to trade his life for Domenico’s instead of just his person, that it was not just a matter of honor regarding the treatment of a member of his household, but something altogether more painful. This would sever all ties between them, he knew. Domi had been fostered in the king’s household and they had been friends for more than fifteen years, and it would all be gone. _Gone._

He thought he might be dying, even without an execution.

And then, what he would never have expected: Domi’s arms gently wrapped around him, and Domi’s cheek pressed down on top of his head.

“You shouldn’t – ” he said, his voice sounding strangled.

“I suppose it isn’t truly all right, since we’re still prisoners,” Domi went on in a light tone, “but what I mean is … I’m still alive. And so are you. No harm done.”

Milio wanted to push him away, but could not bring himself to; he merely leaned back enough to look Domi in the eye. “How can you say that? How can you just …”

“Oh, it’s not hard.” Domi looked down, swallowed, and smiled with just the one side of his mouth. “I can forgive anything from you, you know.”

In a flash, Milio _did_ know, as clearly as he knew his own name. And in a moment, he snaked his arms beneath Domi’s, twined his fingers in his hair, and pressed their lips together. Domi froze, not quite long enough for Milio to begin to doubt, and then leaned in, his hands coming to cup Milio’s face.

The walls seemed to melt away: he felt the furthest thing from a prisoner. Domi’s lips were warm and soft, like everything else about him, just as Milio had always felt they must be, and there was nothing he would like to do more for the rest of his life than to kiss this lovely, lovely man.

They slowly, slowly broke apart and then stared at each other. Domi looked frightened, almost; a far cry from the confident and soothing presence that had pulled Milio from the depths of misery.

“What’s wrong?”

Domi sighed. “You’re my _prince_. What’s going to happen?”

Milio leaned back, nestling his head into the crook of Domi’s neck and shoulder. When they were standing, he was the taller one, but sprawling here on the floor, he was able to curl up against Domi in a way that made him feel perfectly safe. “Don’t worry. It’ll be all right – I’ll make sure of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff! I'm sorry, I meant to linger more on the hurt, but once I started writing I just really wanted to see them come together, you know? Maximize the comfort.
> 
> Thank you for the great prompt!


End file.
